


The pros and cons of sleeping

by vertigo



Series: JayTim Week: Valentine’s Day  Edition 2017 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, jaytimweek:vde, with a serving of anger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertigo/pseuds/vertigo
Summary: Maybe there’s a show being broadcasted in the outer space called The Life & Misfortune of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. In his mind the trailer plays, the first scene is just a candid shot of him last week, coming out of one of Bruce’s limousines and hitting the red carpet face-first (he’ll blame that one on exhaustion).





	

**Author's Note:**

> DAY TWO! GIVE IT UP FOR DAY TWO! This was by far one of the best days, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

“Replacement. Wake up.”

 

Tim shuffles awkwardly in his bed— _why_ , he asks the God above repeatedly.

 

Not that he believes in God, but on nights like these where his body _aches_ from too many punches and the only thing he wants is to sleep for 16+ hours and _someone_ barges in, he thinks that the God above hates him, that He has some personal brand of fun watching him suffer. Maybe there’s a show being broadcasted in the outer space called _The Life & Misfortune of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. _In his mind the trailer plays, the first scene is just a candid shot of him last week, coming out of one of Bruce’s limousines and hitting the red carpet face-first (he’ll blame that one on exhaustion). There’s a collection of shots of him falling, or looking at an empty mug of coffee as if it held the answers to all his prayers.

 

“C’mon Replacement, we need to talk about the Falcones.” He groans, cracking open one bloodshot eye and trying to focus on who was waking him up. Jason, of course, is lounging comfortably in his reading chair, chewing a Big Mac and dipping his fries in his milkshake.

 

“Howdidyapassthesecurity” He mumbles, closing his eyes again and getting more acquainted with his pillows. They were fluffy—Bruce gave him cooling memory foam pillows who adjusted to his body perfectly and a comforter covered in tiny fat bats. They coupled well with his AC unit and the perfect temperature of 64,4 °F. For him it was the best temperature in the whole planet, perfect for him to keep his body wrapped under the covers and still stick one foot out, maintaining a balanced temperature. Everything was perfect—except for fucking Jason Peter Todd munching a Big Mac in his room.

 

The man shrugged, fully entertained with his food. “I’m a bat remember? Nothing is impossible for us… Anyways you better get up if you don’t want me deciding to go pew-pew on Falcone’s head.” Tim groaned, reaching out with a hand from the depths of his warm cocoon to try and slap Jason—but he was too far away (or maybe his limbs weren’t listening to him yet). “Brought you a double quarter pounder with cheese, nuggets with spicy buffalo sauce and a strawberry shake.” Jason shook the bag with one hand, the other dipping fries in vanilla shake. Fortunately for him, Jason seemed to know just what to give him to appease his anger and was out of the woods for now.

 

Tim moved from his cocoon, ready to get up but suddenly stopped when the feeling of the lacy panties snuggly against his body reminded him that God hated him. Of course Jason would drop in unannounced the day he decided to wear his brand new Victoria’s Secret panties—yes he knew they were overrated, regular underwear with an astronomic price, but he couldn’t help himself when he passed through one of the displays and the leaf green panties with small scales glared at him. Love at first sight with the Superhero collection. Tim calculated slowly how much would cost him to get up and grab his food—Jason would probably make fun of him for wearing panties (a small one, tiny enough to cover _most_ of his skin), maybe snap a picture or two for the whole family to see.

 

Then again, he never cared much about what they would say, he’s pretty sure Alfred already washed one or ten of them from his time living in the manor. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when someone knocks on his door and Kon’s voice is filling the silence. He would probably murder Jason if he saw him sitting right there, so, with no other option available, Tim flips a mental middle finger to God and bolts from his bed, crossing the space between the sheets and the door just in time to hold it a fraction and look at Kon’s eyes, peering curiously into his room. “Everything ok Tim?”

 

Oh no, he sounds concerned and if there’s one thing Tim hates more than God playing with him, it’s Kon’s mother-hen concern for him. “Just fine, Kon. I just have a meeting with Jason on skype, sorry if it woke you up.” Conner gives him a look that clearly reads _I don’t believe you, but you know what? You’re not our leader without a reason_ and shrugs, bidding him goodnight and closing the door. Tim breathes deeply, turning to stare at Jason—who just has the most paradoxical physiological reacting right now: he looks both pale and flushed all the way to the tip of his pierced ears. He cranes his head, _knowing_ where Jason’s eyes are hovering, and lifts up an eyebrow, as if prompting an explanation.

 

“…”

 

He’s silent while Tim crosses the room again, taking the contents from the paper bag and starting to munch down his nuggets. “Warn a man, Tim.” It’s the only thing that Jason manages to say before stuffing his mouth full of undipped fries.

 

“I’ll hang a tie on my window, so the next time you walk in _uninvited at three am_ in my room, you’ll know that I’m wearing panties.” Jason _almost_ chokes on his milkshake and those gunmetal blue eyes keep going up and down quickly—as if he’s ashamed and curious. “Listen, they are comfortable, and you and Dick wore something similar…”

 

“Ours _actually_ covered our junk, replacement.”

 

“Because, unless you and Dick had gargantuan penises at a young age, you guys didn’t have enough junk to cover. Leave me alone Jason, I’m going through a midlife crisis and suddenly I want my scaly panties too.” That explanation seemed enough and Jason kept himself quiet, finishing his meal and watching Tim scarf down his food with gusto. Between bites he would look at Jason and his eyes shifting everywhere but always coming back to his panties, even if his Superman shirt was covering most of it, leaving only a teasing green peeking from underneath the blue.  Jason’s face lost the pale quality, now sporting a slight flush that brought out the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, even in the room’s dim light. “My eyes are up here, Jason.” The man shifts uncomfortably in his chair, mumbling his apologies under his breath. “Talk to me about the Falcones.”

 

Jason opens his mouth and licks his lips, his hands rubbing against each other nervously. “They had a shipment of AKs coming in yesterday, looks like they’re moving their schedule. I think we need to be quick, it was the second shipment only this month.” He says everything in one breath, the tension eventually bleeding out of him like blood from a shallow wound. Jason inhales again trying _pitifully_ not to stare at Tim’s panties. “I’m thinking they’ll start a war with the Maronis _again._ But now they’re aligning themselves with the Odessa mob.”

 

He runs his mouth while Tim eats his burger, stopping sometimes to take a sip from his milkshake and take another deep breath, his eyes unconsciously looking at the sliver of green before he continues. “Hang on, I have to grab my computer then you can show me where they are unloading and moving things.”  The current boy wonder turns around, leaving his burger unattended over the sheets and getting on his hands and knees to reach his laptop on the other bedside table, and of course God hates him, so now his panties are giving him a wedgie and Tim pulls them from the place they shouldn’t be. Behind him, he hears a choked noise and turns around to see Jason blushing again, his eyes fixated on the green panties. “…What is wrong with you today, Jason?”

 

Jason seems to swallow something stuck horizontally in his throat, his hands moving frantically in the air. “What’s wrong with _me_ Tim? I’m not the one wearing panties so short and transparent that I can see that your mother was indeed Jewish and asked for the brit milah, mazel tov!”

 

“Well, I am in my room and I can wear whatever I want Jason!” He turns himself fully around, sitting on the balls of his feet and looking down to see the blue shirt emblazed with the House of El symbol covering his crotch. “You have a problem with me wearing panties? I thought you were more open minded!”

 

“NO! I don’t have a problem with you wearing panties, you could even be wearing a fursuit that I would be ok with it, Tim!” Jason is almost pulling his hair from his roots and Tim stares at him, Jason getting frustrated is really a rare sight to behold, usually reserved for when _Bruce_ does something to take him out of his mind. He looks down, to where he’s uncomfortably rubbing the palm of his hand against a jeans clad knee and oh.

 

_Oh._

 

“Oh.” He says dumbly, staring at the bulge in Jason’s pants.

 

“Oh.” Jason mocks, finally letting go of his hair to press his fingers into his eyes until he’s seeing green spots. Tim shuffles a bit in his bed, feeling his own blush take over his face and run down to his collarbones. He swallows awkwardly and wriggles a bit in his spot, his own body reacting to Jason’s reaction.

 

“So,” He coughs, and Jason stares at him with horror and shame filling those pretty eyes. “You like them?” The man in his room laughs, shaking his head in disbelief in what Tim just asked. Tim himself starts laughing too and the tension seems to bleed out from the room while their shoulders shake in sync. “You know, I have a pair of Red Hood panties.” Jason chokes on his own laughter so hard he has to hit a closed fist on his Kevlar clothed chest to end up the coughing fit.

 

“Jesus Christ, Tim!”

 

Tim shuffles awkwardly in his legs again, kneeling by the end of the bed and reaching out for Jason’s gloved fingers. “Do you…Want to touch it?” Jason nods, uncurling his fingers and dragging the palm of his hand over the flimsy material, making Tim moan lowly. The current Robin looks down, observing how Jason’s hand moves timidly over his cock, a gentle and exploratory move underneath the blue of his shirt. And suddenly that’s so _erotic_ that Tim has to bite his bottom lip to control the moans that threat to spill out from his mouth, his eyes hypnotized with the careful movements of Jason’s digits running over his slowly filling cock. He distantly hears Jason asking him if he’s feeling good and Tim can only nod in response, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of the Jason’s bluish gloves running against his sensitive skin.

 

He feels his cock slowly filling in, poking from beneath the blue fabric of his clothes. “Can you lift your shirt, Tim?” Jason asks, his voice filled with awe—and he complies, lifting up his shirt enough to show his abs and the yellowed bruise from last night’s action, spreading from his hipbone to the ribs in one ugly stain. “Busy night?” Jason inquires, still lazily caressing his cock.

 

“Busy night.” He replies with a smile, the hand that isn’t holding the shirt up curling against the soft sheets of his bed. Tim keeps his eyes closed, his hips pumping slowly against Jason’s hand. He almost misses the other vigilante leaning in, pressing their lips together for the first time—and the feel of the chapped lips against his makes him sink his teeth over Jason’s bottom lip, asking for permission to take things further. Jason parts his lips and for the first time Tim feels their tongues meeting and surprises himself when he doesn’t tastes nicotine and coffee, but vanilla and salt from his fries—and it’s a pleasant surprise when Jason doesn’t attacks his mouth hungrily like he always imagined, instead of it he’s greeted with a curious and gentle tongue meeting his. Tim sighed when Jason pulled away, a thin line of saliva connecting their lips.

 

“Tim.” He opens his eyes, staring at the blue expanse of Jason’s eyes; his hand had ceased the movement, letting only the thumb rub the precum gathering at the slit of his cock. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to chafe you.” Tim nods, having some difficult to pull away from Jason and maneuver himself to open his nightstand—inside there’s a mix of batarangs, hand lotions, old receipts and aspirins. He fumbles with his own mess, grabbing the tube of lube before looking at Jason—really looking at him, flushed from their activities, his chest rising slowly as if he was calming himself; on the background, the city lights frame him, giving his mess of fat curls a golden halo.

 

He has to take a moment, beholding the sight that is Jason Todd removing his gloves and picking up the lube from his hand—he’s seated at the edge of the chair, precariously  balanced while covering his whole hand with the transparent liquid. His clean hand reaches out first, pulling the panties down, and Tim has to raise his ass a little, letting the flimsy green fabric stretch at the middle of his thighs. “Can I go on?”

 

Tim nods, and as an afterthought, he licks his lips and says “Yes, please.” His voice is foreign, even to his ears—certain but still trembling due the pure lust and Jason takes a deep breath, as if recomposing himself from the shiver that crossed his body. The first contact of Jason’s lubed hand against his cock feels like a blessing and Tim openly moans, the smooth friction feeling so much better now that Jason can and goes faster, paying attention to dig the pads of his fingers against the pulsing vein and making a litany of moans fall from his lips. Jason leans in again, shutting his mouth effectively and swallowing every moan.

 

He loses himself to the maddening movement of Jason’s hand in his cock, to the expert fingers cleaning the precum and adding it to the lubed mess—he pumps his hips into the rhythm, his own hands still clutching the sheets and his shirt. Tim’s breath falls short and he has to pull away from Jason’s lips, letting small huff of their mingled breaths hit their mouths and Jason keeps going, tightening his fingers around his cock and digging his thumb into the sensitive skin under the head. Tim feels the heat curling in his stomach, his legs going numb and his toes curling with pleasure, Jason biting into his mouth and moaning—feeding from Tim’s pleasure.

 

“C’mon, Tim,” He whispers, too blue eyes staring at him with lust and adoration. “Can you come for me? Can you soil your panties?” Tim moans, his nails almost tearing up the fabric. “Do it for me, little bird.” Tim lets go of the sheets and his own shirt in order to grab Jason’s curls to mash their lips together, his back going rigid as the cock twitched and he came in thick spurts, soiling the other man’s hand and his own shirt.

 

It takes him several minutes to stop breathing heavily and the ring on his ears to fade—Tim is only able to feel Jason’s tongue brushing leisurely against his and the hand still on his cock, pumping him softly and coaxing him back from his high. When Tim sighs with a bit of discomfort, groaning with oversensitivity, is when Jason lets go, falling limply against his chair and putting some distance between them. Only then, Tim realizes that his other hand is busy, pressing the heel against his aching cock, still trapped uncomfortably in his pants. Jason is taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down when Tim licks his lips, his chest still rising rapidly with each breath. “Jason.” He calls softly, seeing the man moan from just hearing his name dripping so softly from Tim’s mouth. “Touch yourself for me.” Jason groans, not having to be told twice to fumble with his pants and pull out his cock from the jockstrap they all wear underneath their uniforms.

 

Tim licks his lips at the sight, removing his legs from underneath himself and leaning forward to watch Jason’s flushed thick cock under the brilliant lights of the city. Unlike Tim, Jason is silent when he cleans the cum from his hand on his cock, using it as an additional lube to aid the harsh, almost brute up and downs of his fingers. When Tim finally trusts his legs enough, he gets up from the bed, crossing the smalls steps between his sheets and the chair where Jason is sprawled. He braces himself with one hand on the back of the chair, the other coming down to join Jason’s fingers—they both moan at the first contact of his palm, and Tim sighs, feeling Jason’s cock twitching between their joined fingers. He leans down, capturing Jason’s lips in his in a hungry kiss, and lets their hands work on his thick cock for a while.

 

Jason’s moans are hot against his mouth and his free hand is now caressing one of Tim’s scarred thighs, from the knee, stopping to pluck at the soiled panties still wrapped snuggly against his mid-thigh, to the sensitive skin between the thighs and his spent but still twitching cock. Tim whines lowly in the back of his throat, not feeling ready for another go, but happily complying with the way that Jason’s huge hand fits so well against his body. “Jason.” He called, looking again into those hooded beautiful blue eyes as the man beneath him moaned openly, pumping his hips towards their joined hands as a bead of precum slid slowly from the tip of his cock to their fingers. “For me…” He breathes, sinking his teeth into Jason’s abused bottom lip. Jason closes his eyes and arches his back, his cum coating both of their hands as Tim forced them to keep moving until Jason mewled out on discomfort.

 

They keep silent for a while, giving time to their breathing to come back to normal, although Jason moans once more as Tim lifts up their joined hands to clean the cum from them—he whines, feeling the strong taste of Jason filling his mouth, still mingling faintly with his own taste. He lets his imagination runs while as he takes the figure of Jason sprawled on the chair, his slow softening cock laying against his black uniform. When Jason looks a little less out of breath, he pulls him onto his feet, dragging his body to the small bathroom in his room—all the while he imagines that the next time he’ll ask to blow him, he can imagine himself dragging the foreskin down, wrapping his lips around the head while they wash their hands.

 

Jason kisses his neck, pushing down the panties once his hand is clean enough, and Tim turns around, disarming the traps on Jason’s armor and letting the pieces of clothes fall down until he’s fully naked and he can appreciate the constellation of scars adorning his body. “Next time you should wear the Red Hood ones.” Jason jokes, leaning in to peck his lips before they’re moving back to the bed, snuggling underneath the comforter as Tim picks back his cold burger and Jason expertly types the password in.

 

Tim raises an eyebrow and the vigilante beside him shrugs, opening the map of Gotham and circling the places he’s been talking before. “So, as I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted by you being hot and wearing Robin panties…”

 

“Shut up Jason, you love them.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, still @beta-lactamase, and with a foot on a cast, so if you want to fight me, now it's the time


End file.
